Celine Ong

I carry a quiet fever in my chest,
a cough that echoes what I cannot say.
They think I fake it—this ache, this rest—
but pain has no script, and truth finds its way.

My body folds like petals in the rain,
soft, tired, worn by battles they can’t see.
Still I rise, again and again,
not for them—but gently, for me.

I am not lazy. I am not weak.
This pause is not failure—it’s grace.
Even if their words come sharp and bleak,
I hold peace in my sacred space.

So let them talk, let judgment fall—
I choose...

I only wanted silence
after the sting of saline drops
and a soft tissue in my hand.

But voices rose,
not to lift me,
but to crush me under words like “lazy.”

I held my bowl,
not for sweetness,
but for restraint.

I didn’t throw it.
I could’ve.
But I didn’t.

She left.
I stayed.

And even in her anger,
she asked if I needed medicine.

The world is loud.
I am learning
to breathe before the echo.

Softly, You Heal — A Get Well Soon Gift Set
A little care package from my heart to yours

Sticker: “It’s okay. It’s up.”
Poem: “For Your Quiet Healing”
Playlist: Softly, You Heal – a gentle mix of songs to soothe, comfort, and remind you that healing takes time.

Listen here: Softly, You Heal

You are not behind.
You are simply healing — softly, quietly, and in your own beautiful time.